Dear Mama and Daddy,
I’m sitting in my home in the Jamaican countryside, surrounded by many things that remind me of you and the home that you provided for the 8 of us as we grew into adulthood. It was the happiest of times. It was the saddest of times. It was the scariest of times.
Daddy, I remember waking early to walk with you or greet you on your return trip from our gate, as you picked up the morning paper, your long silky robe, catching you just above your narrow ankles, swishing as you walked down the driveway at Chester Avenue, 1 or 2 of the dogs trotting along. You and I were often the first ones awake and I undoubtedly link that to my forever love of the early morning.
I can see us talking but I cannot hear the words. I see myself skipping and feeling happy to be with you, outdoors, away from the stress that was often indoors, for these few precious minutes.
Mama, I link mornings to you for a different reason. Some of my happiest memories are tied up in the adventures that you created when we were off to “country”. Leaving before dawn or at least the crack of, was critical to the excitement. The night before would involve eager preparations filled with unusually happy energy. I don’t remember Daddy joining in on most of those adventures, probably well needed domestic pauses!
I loved heading into the Jamaican countryside early in the morning, seeing farmers working the land or the animals before the day got hot. The trucks loaded to toppling capacity with large sacks of yams, bananas, plantains, pineapple, sugarcane, potatoes - sweet and Irish, oranges, mangoes and so, so much more. You’d sing as you skilfully drove your sleek pink Jaguar round mountain curves and up scary heights. We’d stop at roadside stands to buy roast corn, or a cup of delicious pumpkin soup and you’d enjoy chatting to the country people.
I don’t remember you quarrelling on those rides. I think those road trips were your meditations where you were fully present in the beauty around you. I am sure you helped me love the countryside so that whenever I dreamt of moving back to Jamaica, it was not for city life but for the magic I felt was in rural living, a magic which has lived on to today.
Thank you both for giving me a love of the morning. When morning is your hopeful time you are greeted with a day full possibilities!
Give thanks.
Your longtime wash-belly,
Pamela
*It’s been a long while since mama p has written here. I’m back, for now anyway, and thanks for sticking around :)